Calling Out Your Name
by WeBuiltThePyramids
Summary: Five times Paige was sick or injured and Walter was Not Okay.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay so here's the story behind this one. Back in the spring, we had the Scorpion fic exchange. We were sent out our fic assignments, and I got someone who had this as one of their prompts. But then we were sent out a second round of assignments (I guess the first ones were a mistake of some sort) and I no longer had this prompt, which I'd immediately fallen in love with. Whoever got that assignment picked another prompt, so I decided I did eventually want to write this one. So credit to _rories_ on AO3 for the idea.**

 **As implied in the summary, this fic will be five chapters.**

* * *

" _Paige! Paige!_ "

Walter's voice was hoarse from calling her name a mere half dozen times. This wasn't a mission, they didn't have coms, all he knew was she and Sylvester had been hanging out, she'd gone to the restroom, there had been an earthquake and the building they were in had partially collapsed. Most people, Sylvester included, had been in the more populated area of the convention center, which, oddly, hadn't been harmed. But lines at the bathroom had caused Paige to seek a less busy section of the building, and she hadn't gotten back yet when the earthquake had hit. Cabe had shouted to him when he arrived on the scene, telling him that people were working on getting into the bad area and finding her, and to not do anything rash, but Walter had barreled past him, entering the building and immediately retracing the path that Sylvester had said she'd taken.

He'd had to crawl over some debris, but with the exception of actually squeezing his body through the mess to get into the building in the first place, there was relatively little stopping him from moving around inside. His head moved quickly from side to side, seeking her familiar form, rushing around a corner and hopping over a fallen display as he sprinted down the hall.

Then there she was, laying among pieces of cord and nuts and bolts, her head slowly turning to the side as she groaned quietly. _She's alive._ Walter rushed to her side, her name escaping his lips in a tone he didn't recognize.

"Paige," he said again, dropping down beside her. "Are you okay?"

"Banged my head," she said, starting to sit up.

Walter reached out, keeping her down. "Don't move," he said, "we have to make sure nothing is broken. How are your arms and legs?"

"Fine," she said, her voice sounding sleepy.

Walter shook his head rapidly, _no, no, no._ He slid a hand around under her head, feeling for a bump, for blood, for anything out of the ordinary. "Your neck?"

"Fine. Oooh," she grunted when his fingers applied some pressure to the back of her skull. "Little tender there."

"Do you know how long it's been since you fell?" He asked. He'd arrived at the scene only five minutes before, but the earthquake was nearly thirty minutes before that. She may have fallen in the initial quake, or the structure she was on could have been weakened by the quake and collapsed under her weight any time later.

"Uh – uh," she said. "There was an earthquake."

"I know," he said, his hand still between her head and the hard floor. "We need to get out of here. The building is unstable, and you probably have a concussion. Can you tell me anything else? About how you're feeling?"

"Eyes hurt," she mumbled, closing them.

"Like, you got something in them, or you're sensitive to light."

"My vision is blurry," she said. "Not so much that it might alarm me otherwise, but I know what you look like and you're a bit fuzzy around the edges. My ears are ringing, too."

 _Definitely a concussion._ For Walter O'Brien, one of the most terrifying things was the prospect of a head injury. The fear wasn't any less crippling when it was someone close to him, even if they weren't a genius. "Paige, can you stand up? We need to get you to a hospital."

She pulled herself into a sitting position, then groaned quietly, lowering her head to her chest as the inside of the elbow rested on a bent knee. "Oh..."

"Headache? Dizzy?" He supposed it was both. "Come on, Paige," he said, scrambling to his feet and pulling her up with him.

She put her head against his chest, tensing up as there was a sharp creaking from above. "It's loud."

"I know it's loud. You're sensitive to sound right now because of your headache." He wished he could just wrap his arms around her and stop the pain, the disorientation. He knew how terrifying something like that could be. "We're going to get out of here, okay?"

"Mmmmm."

"C'mon." He slowly turned her around so her back was to him, sliding his hands forward as she bent her arms. Her fingers curled over his and he heard her breathing. "It's okay. Just walk forward. You're not going to fall again." He looked up. There was a walkway above him that had given out. He didn't ask – she probably couldn't remember anyway – but he thought odds were good that that's where Paige had been when the earthquake hit. That fall...Walter wished he had been with her. More than once had he broken her fall, and if they'd been together when the walkway had fractured, he might have been able to pull her on top of him, taking the brunt of impact himself.

But knowing Paige for the years he had had taught Walter how to see the silver linings in bad situations, and he realized that since he entered the building after the earthquake, he already knew a way out. All he had to do was retrace his steps, and thankfully, most of the path to safety would be uncomplicated with Paige with him. Near the end, he may have to lift her up, hand her to Cabe or a fire fighter, but for the most part, all she needed was him, to keep her awake and walking.

Her steps were shaky. "Paige, you've hit your head," he said, knowing her short term memory was probably spotty, at best. She needed to remain aware of what was going on, or she might forget how important it was to keep walking.

She stopped, and he felt a chill on her palms as they pressed against the backs of his hands. "Walter?"

"Yeah?"

"W..." she staggered back a step, and Walter realized that since she couldn't see him, she had no idea where his voice was coming from. "I'm right here," he said quickly, tugging his hands out of hers and rushing around in front of her. "Hey."

"Hey." Her lip trembled. She was confused, but aware enough to know something was wrong. "Walter..."

"You hit your head," Walter said again, slowly. "There was an earthquake, and you fell and hit your head. Cabe and the rest of the team are outside. We're getting out of the building and going to a hospital. You're going to be okay. I promise. Now just...I'm going to walk backward and hold your hands. Can you just look at me while we walk?" She was looking at the floor, or maybe down at their hands, he wasn't sure, he didn't want her looking down at the floor, "Paige, I need you to look at me." She did. "Good. Now come on." He inched backward, glancing over his shoulder every few feet. He wished he could pick her up and carry her. But then she might go to sleep. She couldn't go to sleep. It was very, very bad for people with concussions to go to sleep. "Paige, what's your last name?"

"Dineen."

"Good." He wasn't really expecting her to not know – or at least, he was really, really hoping he wouldn't have to face _that_ reality – but he wanted to keep her talking, keep her aware, while not asking her things that would put strain on her. "And what's your son's name?"

"Ralph." She smiled. "Walter, you know his name. Oh..." she came to a stop, closing her eyes, wobbling slightly.

Walter stepped closer to her, putting his hands on her just above her hips. "Paige, I know it's confusing, but we're so close, we're almost there, we just gotta turn this corner and then I'll pick you up and you won't have to walk anymore." Was it a mistake, making her walk at all? Walter wished he had his comm. Toby would know. Walter _should_ know and he hated himself for not remembering, Paige had made his brain short circuit one hundred times if she had once but this was _not_ a good time for his feelings for her to be affecting the task at hand.

"What happened?" She asked, slowly beginning to walk forward again.

"There was an earthquake. You fell. You hit your head. No," he said quickly when she craned her neck around, glancing behind them and stumbling slightly to the side when she did so. "No," he repeated, helping her regain her balance. She looked at him. "That's right," he said. "Don't look back. Don't you dare look back, Paige. Just keep your eyes on me. Okay?"

"Mmm hmm."

He continued speaking to her, in short, simple sentences, until they got around the corner. "Good," he said. "I'm going to pick you up, okay? It's okay," he repeated as he slowly scooped her into his arms, knowing that the sudden change might disorient her. "There you go. I got you. I'm not going to run," he said as he began to walk faster, "because that might jostle you. But we're going to move quickly and you'll be out of here and at the hospital soon. And you will be okay. Ralph will be there. I know you'd love to see Ralph."

"Mmmm." She tipped her head against his chest, wincing slightly. Walter walked faster, high stepping over the fallen display, continuing past the vending machines, past the restrooms, back down to where he'd come. The hole he'd crawled through had been widened, and a fire fighter was just beginning to come through. Walter handed Paige off, watching her disappear in the woman's arms through the gap. He followed.

They were loading her onto a stretcher. He felt his respiration begin to return to normal, though his heart was still pounding loudly in his chest. Cabe walked up next to him, and the two men stood in silence as the medics began to do their jobs.

"She'll be okay," Cabe said.

Walter nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Obviously as this is a five times fic, the chapters won't immediately continue from one story to the next. This fic takes place only _at some point_ after chapter one. **

* * *

Walter knew Paige wasn't feeling well when she didn't protest. Normally, a suggestion that Ralph spend the weekend with Sylvester and she sleep in the loft of the garage would have been met with objection, a claim she could take care of herself, she was absolutely strong enough to clean her apartment before Ralph came home, and that's even if she was sick, which she wasn't. But Walter's proposal had been met with a silent nod. He wasn't really surprised. She looked exhausted, her cough was relentless and her fever was alarming – at least by his standards. If Toby was here, he would say _flu_ in that matter – of – fact tone of his. But although he was the doctor, this was something they didn't need him to diagnose. This was obvious. And it was alarming. At least to Walter O'Brien.

She blew a kiss to her son from where she was curled up on the couch. "You really should go upstairs," Walter said. "You'll be more comfortable up there."

"Mmmm," she mumbled, curling into the fetal position and closing her eyes.

"It'll be less likely that the rest of the team gets sick if you're not in the common areas."

She got to her feet, stopping to cough. "I know, I know," she said, her voice hoarse. She reached for the blanket that was laying on the back of the couch, then hesitated.

"You can take it," Walter said quickly.

"Can you grab it for me?" She asked. "My sinuses hurt when I bend over."

"Yeah. Head upstairs, I'll bring you this and some soup."

"Walter." She gave him a small smile. "You don't have to take care of me."

And there was Paige's independent streak. She might be spending the night in the garage, but she didn't want to be a burden to anyone else. Walter smiled at her. "You're not. Trust me."

To someone who only heard the words they exchanged, that wouldn't make sense. But he knew what she was really saying, and she knew what he was responding to. She nodded. "Okay."

Walter folded the blanket and headed to the kitchen. There were a couple of soup cans in the cupboard from when Toby was sick, and he grabbed one. He couldn't find a can opener, but Happy's work station provided several alternatives. While the soup was heating up, he grabbed a tissue box, tucked it and the blanket under his arm and held the edge of the bowl of soup – it was hot – in the other as he ascended the stairs. "Paige," he said, a little more forcefully than he'd meant, when he saw her sitting in a chair. "Get in bed."

She did. He suspected that she'd wanted to, but needed his permission. _Like I'd have made you sleep on the couch up here anyway_ , he thought to himself as he handed her the blanket from downstairs. She wrapped it around herself before settling beneath the covers. "There you go," he said, remembering when she'd taken care of him in this same location following his unplanned space mission. "This will help combat your chills."

At the mere mention of _chills_ , Paige shuddered.

"Here," Walter said, handing her the bowl. "I forgot a spoon, but I have some plastic ware up here. Remember when you brought it for me? Because I would always forget to eat, and you didn't want to give me any excuses."

"I remember," she said quietly. "I'm not hungry, Walter."

"You will get dehydrated." Was she getting worse? Walter couldn't tell. The lighting was different up here. "This is good for you. Nutritious. And it's fluids. You have to drink lots of fluids." He wished Toby was here. Toby would know if she was okay or if she had to seek professional help. Hell, Toby _was_ professional help. Yes. Toby should be here. But Toby and Happy were in Massachusetts. He sank down on the bed next to her. "Paige, you have to eat some of the soup."

"Spoon."

"Right." He jumped up, went to his upstairs desk, and rummaged through the drawer that was full of things Paige brought him. Vitamins...zinc tablets...stress ball...ah. He found the bundle of silverware and selected a spoon. "Here," he said as he crossed the room and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"Thanks." As soon as she took the spoon, her body tensed, and Walter grabbed the soup bowl from her as she started to cough into the crook of her elbow. "Eh," she whined when her body stopped spasming. "This sucks."

"You still achy?"

"Yeah." She took the soup back from Walter, but instead of using the spoon, lifted the bowl to her lips and tipped it back slightly.

Walter watched her, realizing that his reasons for wanting her to stay here were not limited to making it easier on her. He wanted her here because he wanted to know what was going on with her at every moment. If she was at home, and he couldn't check on her as readily, he'd be going absolutely mad with worry.

He supposed that meant that her spending the night in the garage was for both her self – preservation and for his.

She rested the bowl on her thighs, then smirked. Walter cocked his head, amused. "What?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking of something from a show."

He assumed that it was a show that he had not seen. "How is your throat?"

"Still pretty sore, but probably because I wasn't drinking much."

It didn't surprise him – it'd been a battle all day to get her to down enough water, and her voice kept cracking like a boy's in puberty. "Finish the soup, I'll get you another glass of water and we'll make sure you drink it in the next hour or so." He hesitated, biting his lip. "I..."

She lifted her eyes to him.

"I wish I knew more. Or...or c – could _do_ more. I hate seeing you like this."

She smiled. Walter noticed her lips were chapped. "It's just the flu, Walter. I'll be miserable for a couple days but then I'll be okay."

"I know. I just don't...I don't like it when you're miserable."

"I don't like it when I'm miserable either," she said, and he chuckled, recognizing her attempt at using blunt honesty for humor. She put the soup on the bedside table, and when she looked back at him, her eyes grew gentle. "Walter, I don't want to get you sick. But..."

She trailed off, but Walter only had to wait a moment or two to understand how she was finishing the sentence. He looked down when he felt her hand slide into his, and he closed his fingers gently around hers, feeling the slight pressure as she squeezed. Her hand was hot, her palms a little clammy, but he pushed at the worry, forcing it down and away. He squeezed her hand right back. "Do you need anything else right now?"

She scooted slightly down, so she was no longer sitting up against the headboard. Her head was cushioned by the pillows, and she wiggled slightly, settling into a comfortable position. "I might be able to fall asleep a while." She paused, and Walter wondered if she was hesitating or preparing to cough. Then she ran her tongue over her dry lips and spoke again. "Could you stay here with me until I fall asleep?"

"Of course," he said, putting his other hand on top of theirs. He wanted to kiss her forehead. But he also didn't want to move, just wanted to stay sitting beside her, holding her hand, glad that she was comforted. _I'll stay here all night if that's what you want._


	3. Chapter 3

**Consider this Sunday's update, because I have an engagement tomorrow before work and may not have time to do much of anything.**

* * *

Walter lunged onto the boat deck just in time to see the short man, the one with the New Jersey accent that had made fun of Scorpion during the lunch in the crowded galley, drive something sharp forcefully into Paige's side, which was immediately followed by an agonized bellow as she bent at the waist, hands curling around the wound.

" _Paige_!" Her name rushed from his lips, a mistake, the shorter man was aware of his presence, he whirled, the knife in his hand, with blood, _her_ blood, flying from it, droplets falling on the deck. In a stroke of luck, it slipped from his grasp and clattered behind him. Turning, he lunged for the weapon.

Walter lunged too, but not for the knife, for the man, and wrapped his arms around him, bending his elbows so his hands came back and met behind the man's head. Forcefully pushing down, with a strength he didn't even realize he had in him, Walter heard the crack, then felt the weight as the Jersey man slumped forward, dead weight. Walter let him fall to the deck, then spun on his heel, locating Paige as she slumped on the bench near the rail, her head resting on the side of the garbage receptacle. "Paige."

Her eyes were squeezed shut, she was panting, and loud, as her hands pushed on the wound, an attempt to slow the bleeding. He'd known this case was dangerous, he'd suspected the Jersey man, why had he divided the team up in this way?

It had made sense at the time. The Jersey man's partner, Eric, had been considered the more violent target. It made sense that Cabe track him along the shore, and that Toby accompany him should his medical talents be necessary – especially since some of the buildings they had to search, like the Pentagon building, would block out any com signal.

Walter put a hand over one of Paige's. "Paige, let's get you laid down." He looked up toward the window where the captain sat. The old woman's jaw was set, her lips in a thin line, as she steered directly for the nearest port. Walter could tell that the ship had picked up speed. He estimated twenty minutes before they could get help. _Does she have that long?_

She had to. She had to make it. He couldn't lose her. Ralph couldn't lose her.

"Paige," he said, trying not to sound frantic, "let's get you laid down, okay?"

Paige nodded, sliding off the bench slowly, Walter trying to help support her so she wouldn't collapse onto the deck. She moaned loudly. "It's okay," he said. "It's okay." He reached for her wrist, feeling for her pulse. It was twice her normal resting heart rate, and Walter could feel his own increase in alarm. "I'm going to pull your shirt up so I can look at that," he told her. "Is that okay? Just enough to see what's going on."

She nodded. Walter tugged at the fabric, sliding it up to see the entry wound. In a moment of brief relief, he saw that the knife hadn't gone in toward her organs, but had instead had traveled along her right side, going _back_ rather than _in_. By the location of the wound, it appeared if anything was in danger of having been punctured, it'd be her colon. He had no way of knowing if the injury was that severe.

"Walter," she moaned quietly. "Am I gonna die? Am I gonna die?"

"No," he said firmly. "Remember when we first met? I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to you. And I _only state facts_. Understand?"

She gave a faint nod.

"Okay," he said, "I'm going to...oh, hang on." He frantically unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off and folding it up to place under her head. He briefly considered shedding his undershirt too, to try and wrap her wound, then realized with the way he was sweating, it'd be more santiary for her to just keep using her hands, since she'd just washed them before coming up to the deck with the Jersey man. If only Walter hadn't had to wait for the other head to be free. He'd have come up with them. He pressed his palm against Paige's hand as it returned to her side. "There we go," he said. "We'll be at shore before you know it."

"Hmmm." She was squinting. Walter leaned over slightly to his right, letting his shadow fall over her eyes. "Thanks."

Her voice sounded weak. Walter bit his lip. "Just stay with me, okay, Paige?"

"I'm here."

"Good." _How do I keep her awake?_ He remembered how, more than once, the sound of her voice had kept him grounded in a tense situation. His voice wasn't nearly as lovely as hers. But...but it was something. It was better than silence.

Or rather, it'd be better than silence if he could come up with something to say that didn't betray how terrified he was.

 _Please hang on. I love you._

He couldn't say _that_ out loud. "Okay," Walter said slowly. "I have a story. A joke. So, uh, so, once upon a time, there was this triangle lake." Silence. "Paige!"

"I'm listening."

"Oh." He'd been expecting her to complain about the likelihood of a triangle lake. "Okay well, the triangle lake was an isosceles, and there were three kingdoms bordering that lake. And they decided to go to war over this island that they all wanted to control in the middle of the lake. Now one kingdom was really affluent. They sent twenty five knights into battle with three squires to each knight. The second kingdom had ten knights, and two squires each." He looked down. Her eyes were still open. "The third kingdom was destitute. They could only send one knight and one squire. Now, the night – that' – before the big battle, the first two kingdoms threw a celebration in their camps. The first kingdom had a feast, the second kingdom a nice meal, and their squires polished their armor. The third kingdom, the poor one, the knight sharpened his weapon and the squire went to cook the knight's dinner, so he used a looped rope to sling a pot high over the fire. They didn't have the fancy culinary technology of the first two kingdoms. You know."

He placed two fingers on her wrist. Her heart rate had slowed. She wasn't as panicky as she had been. He let out a sigh that was not quite relief but was somewhere close.

"So anyway, the next day, they were going to start the battle. But there was a problem. The knights drank too much. They were unable to fight. Even the single knight from the third kingdom. So the squires decided they were going to fight in their places. Now, this battle was fairly evenly matched, and it went on a long, long time. All day. Into the night. Again – that' t. And when it was all over, one squire limped away from the battlefield, completely beaten up, but hey, he won. He was the sole squire from the third kingdom. So of course, that goes to prove that the squire of the high pot and noose is equal to the sum of the squires of the other two sides."

Paige's lips curved into a smile, and he heard a quiet chuckle. Her response pleased Walter. He'd tried that joke on other non – geniuses. They had stared at him blankly. "You get it, then?" He asked, a smile on his own face.

"Yes," she said. "The scarecrow."

Walter hadn't known vivid hallucinations to be an issue with stab victims. But... "there's no scarecrow here, Paige. You're on a boat. We're going to shore so they can look at your injury."

"I know, Walter," she said. "Didn't you ever see _The Wizard of Oz_?"

"No."

"Well," she said, "we will have to watch it together, sometime."

"Okay," he said. _We're making future plans. That's good. That's very good, Paige, because you're going to be okay._ He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Walter?"

"Yeah, Paige."

"Be with me."

"I am," he said reassuringly. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to ride with you to the hospital. You won't be alone, I _promise_."

"No. That's not what I mean."

He cocked his head. "What?"

Her eyes opened. "Be with me. I don't want to die with regrets."

"You're not going to die," Walter said.

"Maybe not today. But...but if I did die today then my biggest regret, Walter..." she drew in a sharp breath, "it'd be not telling you how I feel." Her eyes glinted with tears. "I've been so afraid of losing you. If we acted on our feelings."

" _Our_ feelings?"

She looked alarmed. "You said you loved me."

Walter realized she thought he was implying that any feelings were one sided on _her_ end. "I do," he said. "I do." His thumb moved over her hand as they kept pressure on her wound. "We can talk about this later, okay?" _She's a mess right now. She might not even know what she's saying._

Walter glanced across the deck. The Jersey man's body was a mere ten feet from them.

He'd always heard that killing a man did things to a person. A good person who took a life...well, it was supposed to bother them.

Walter's brain wasn't wired that way. Not in this situation. The Jersey man would have killed Paige had he had another shot, and if he hadn't have dropped the knife, Walter might be dead too.

Self defense wasn't murder. Walter turned back to Paige.

* * *

Walter and Happy saw the doctor coming first, and they stood up; Toby and Sylvester followed suit. From the corner of the waiting room, Cabe turned to look in their general direction as he spoke on the phone.

"Ms. Dineen is stable," the doctor said, and Walter felt a rush of relief. "She lost some blood, and we have her on strong antibiotics. She's got quite a few stitches. But the knife missed her organs. She got lucky."

"Can we see her?" Walter asked. He hadn't told Ralph anything yet. Paige had begged him not to.

"Yes," the doctor said, nodding her head. "Briefly. She's been asking for you all. One at a time, though."

"Just got off the phone with D.C.," Cabe said as he walked up to the group. "Got an I.D. on our New Jersyite. Name's Jake MacIntosh." He lowered his voice. "He's killed seventeen people."

"Who would like to see Ms. Dineen first?" The doctor asked, clearly having not heard what Cabe was saying. She scanned the group.

"You go, Walt," Happy said.

Sylvester nodded. "Agreed."

Walter nodded to them, then followed the doctor down the hall, to the third room on the left. Upon entry, he saw Paige, propped up in the bed, a bandage around her midsection. When she saw Walter, she smiled. "Hey."

"Hey." He walked quickly to her side, reaching for her hand. She closed it firmly around him. "How are you feeling?"

"Eck," she said, sticking her tongue out and shaking her head to the side. Walter smiled. "They said you're going to be just fine."

"They're a little worried about infection," she replied, "but I'm on some strong stuff. Walter," she added, her voice suddenly growing serious, "the meds aren't too strong for me to not know what I'm saying."

Walter knew what she was talking about, but he said, "o – okay."

"Walter, I don't want to live with regrets. I don't want to die with regrets. You and I both have been in countless scenarios where we might not come back. And we never...we never talk about it. About us. How we feel about each other."

"There was always something in the way."

"So..." she shrugged. "So let's break that something down." She squeezed his hand. "Walter, I love you. I want you. But what I _don't_ want is to regret you."

He nodded, understanding the feeling all too well. "I don't want to regret you, either."


	4. Chapter 4

Walter threw another log on the fire.

He wasn't a forest person, wasn't a camping person, but he had to admit, this weekend had been really nice. There was something about driving an old beat up pickup through the forest to a site and getting completely off the grid. Walter was, of course, normally someone who liked being _on_ the grid, always working on something, always with his technology.

But he'd had Paige Dineen completely to himself for the past seventeen hours and he had twelve more before they had to go back to civilization. And he liked being alone if he was alone with her. Over the past couple of months, they'd had some opportunities to be alone for an afternoon or for a night, but never like this. Never almost thirty hours of complete seclusion with each other.

"Walter?"

The sound of her voice registered with him before her tone, so he turned in her direction with a smile before his face fell with concern. She was walking slowly toward him, and stopped moving as soon as their eyes met. She looked unsteady. Walter started to walk toward her. "What's wrong?"

Her voice sounded strange. "I uh..." She put a hand out to rest against a tree. "I got bitten. By a snake."

 _No._ "What kind of snake?"

"I...I don't know. I put my foot down and felt something, and I looked down and saw something moving away, and there's...there's two bite marks on my ankle. And I started coming back...then I got really light...lightheaded..."

"Okay." He put his hands on her upper arms. "Just breathe. Give me your wrist and I'll take your pulse." He pressed his fingers against her skin, closing his eyes to block out everything else. Slightly elevated.

 _His_ heart was going a million miles an hour, and that in and of itself wouldn't be harmful here. But hers had to slow down or the venom would pass through her body faster. "You taking nice, easy breaths?"

She nodded, oddly calm. Walter wondered if it was because she'd seen him through a snake bite before. She knew they weren't always fatal and death didn't come immediately.

That was good. Because panicking in this situation would be exceptionally _not_ good.

"This is why we shouldn't take vacations," Paige joked with a nervous smile. "Bad things are going to happen anyway. Might as well stay in a familiar environment."

"I'm sorry." Walter hung his head.

"What? No!" Her eyes grew wide. "Walter, this isn't your fault. You're not allowed to tell me that because you suggested we go away for a weekend, it's because of you that this happened. I'm the one that suggested camping."

"Hmmmfph."

"Why is it that every time this happens, Toby isn't with us? Maybe we should just bring him along everywhere we go."

Walter didn't think Toby would have appreciated sharing a tent with them the previous night.

"Okay," Walter said, "sit down, here on this rock. We need to keep the bite below your heart."

"There is some cord in my pack," she said, "if we need to tie it off. I think I read somewhere that you shouldn't. But I don't know."

"No, not with this," Walter said. "It's also a misconception that you should try and suck the venom out. There's no way to do that fast enough, plus it just contaminates the area."

"I am definitely not that flexible anyway," she said with a little laugh.

Walter dropped down to his knees in front of her and slowly worked the hiking shoe off of her foot. Two little fang marks were visible just above her sock line. Walter let out a breath. "I'm going to go to the truck and get something to splint this with," he said. "We need to limit movement. Then I'll pick you up and carry you to the truck, we'll get out of here."

She nodded, though didn't look all that reassured. "Hey," Walter said, standing up and touching her chin, drawing it up so she looked at him. "I will be _right_ back."

She nodded slowly, looking up at him. "Okay."

He grabbed her hand, squeezed it, and headed off toward the truck, feeling his heart clench at the slight resistance that told him she was reluctant to let go.

He jogged up the hill, toward the road, and opened up the back of the truck, searching for materials. He had some medical tape to wrap around the rods, but it might not be enough. It was more suited to finger or wrist splints than one around the leg.

As Walter stood in the truck bed, he realized that he was on a slant. Looking off the slightly lower side, all the color drained from his face.

He ripped his phone from his pocket and was relieved when he saw one, tiny bar. He quickly dialed.

"Walter? Thought you and the missus wouldn't care to talk to any of us until tomorrow."

"She's not 'the missus' and Cabe, she was bitten by a snake. I have a two flat tires and only one spare. You need to come get us."

"A snake? A poisonous snake?"

"We do not have poisonous snakes," Walter said. "Poison must be inhaled, ingested, or absorbed. Venom is injected. The snake may have been _venomous_."

"Are you guys still at the coordinates you gave me and Happy the other day?"

"We're a half mile beyond them. We wanted, uh..." _to be further from people. We wanted to minimize our chances of being disturbed. We drove over rougher territory and that's probably why the tires are flat._ "There was better hiking and better camp options here. Just keep going and you'll see the truck."

"Alright. I'll see you soon, and I'll let the nearest emergency room know we're coming. Does she know what kind of snake it..."

The call dropped. Walter looked at the screen. The bar was gone. He didn't want to hang around to see if it would come back. Grabbing the materials, he jogged back into the woods and down the hill toward Paige.

She was staring at her knees, but looked up as he approached. "We can't use the truck," he said, "but I got ahold of the others. Cabe is on his way."

"What's wrong with the truck?"

"It's got a flat tire. Don't worry about it. Cabe is coming. Let me go ahead and splint this foot." He dropped to his knees again, careful to not make her joints move. "We just want to make sure circulation is low to this area. You know, Megan used to ride the neighbor's pony. He got bit by a snake once. But horses have terrible circulation below their knees. So he was fine."

"I wish I was a pony, then."

"You will be fine too," Walter said, "because we're going to limit the circulation below _your_ knee. The most important thing here is to keep the injured area still, and well blow your heart. That way any venom has to work its way upward." Her ankle was swollen. He wasn't sure if she noticed, but if not, he was going to do his damndest to make sure she didn't see. "There we go. Nice and splinted up. That ankle isn't going anywhere on its own."

She nodded, her mouth hanging open. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.

She drew in a deep breath. "It's a little...hard to breathe," she managed.

Walter had no idea if she was struggling because of fear or because of the bite itself. "Okay," he said, reaching out. She grabbed both of his hands and squeezed them tightly as she drew in another labored breath. "There you go," he said as she let it out. "In, one two, three, out, four five six, in, one, two, three, out, four five six..." he kept up the chant, feeling slight relief when her grip on his hands didn't weaken and, after a few minutes, her breathing seemed to get a little easier.

"When is Cabe going to get here?"

"Soon," Walter said, knowing it would probably be the better part of an hour. "Soon. He knows exactly where we are. I just need you to breathe, stay nice and relaxed, and don't move your leg. And you will be fine. I'm right here."

"I'm tired."

He could tell she wanted to lay back, but even hanging her legs off the edge of the large rock while lying flat would speed up the venom to her heart. Walter stood up. "I'm going to get behind you. You can lean against my chest. Okay?" At her nod, he moved around behind her, settling down into a seated position and scooting forward until she was between his legs, her back against him. He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. "There you go. Rest."

Her hands came up to cover his. "I'm dizzy. I don't know if it's fear or not."

"You are in the best shape you can be right now," Walter said, "and help is coming." _If she didn't see the snake well, it was probably small. Smaller snakes have smaller amounts of venom. She's strong. She can fight this._ He continued to hold her close, whispering what he hoped was comfort into her ear, feeling her body slowly relax against him. "I've got you," he murmured. "It's all going to be okay."

"My leg hurts," Paige managed, starting to breathe hard again. "My leg hurts..."

"In, one, two, three, out, four, five, six," he chanted again, over and over as she slowly regained control. "I know it hurts," he said, remembering his own encounter with a deadly snake, "I know it hurts but you have to stay calm. Keep breathing." He tightened his arms around her, feeling comforted himself as he felt her every breath.

Then finally – _finally_ – there was the sound of a vehicle pulling up, screeching to a halt, then a familiar voice. " _Walter! Paige! Walter_!"

"Over here!" Walter shouted, hearing a slightly quieter response from Paige. Cabe and a woman appeared, high stepping through the forest forage. "Over here!" Walter called again, even though he knew they saw.

"This is Jana," he said, gesturing to the woman with him. She's a researcher in the area and I called her from the car, she agreed to meet me. She has some..."

"Polyvalent crotalid antivenin," Jana said. "It's an antivenom that can be used for all North American pit vipers. Rattlesnakes, cottonmouths, copperheads." "I'm going to take a look at your wound, Paige, and then we'll get this in your system and it'll neutralize venom. Then we will get you in our van and drive back to civilization. I have adrenaline in the car in case there's any reaction to the antivenom, but I'm only going to give a small amount." She patted the knee that wasn't a part of the injured leg. "You're going to be just fine. Just fine."

Paige was listening. Walter slid a hand to her wrist and found he pulse normal. His was probably still going a million miles an hour.


	5. Chapter 5

**Last chapter. Just need to throw up a trigger warning for anyone who has lost a pregnancy.**

* * *

"It's such a beautiful day," Paige commented, linking her fingers with Walter's.

Walter squeezed her hand. "It is, isn't it?" The sun was out, there was a warm breeze, and given the unexpected rain of the previous week, the strips of grass nearby were _actually green_. "Thankfully no one needs us to save the world this morning." She laughed, using her other hand to reach around and press into her back. "You okay?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "The back pain is only going to get worse, but that's normal."

Walter knew walking helped – on the days that her feet didn't hurt.

"Hopefully no one will need us to save the world tomorrow," Paige continued. "Ralph has that presentation that he wants us to go to."

"I suppose even if we have a case," Walter said, "we would go to Ralph's school. After all, we _did_ tell him that we wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Oh, we may have backed ourselves into a corner there," Paige said with a laugh. Walter chuckled, breaking stride for a moment to lean over and kiss her temple. When they resumed walking, a tall bearded man walking toward them smiled at their affection. Paige noticed. "What a public romantic you've become," she commented with a smile.

"Hush."

They stopped walking, smiling at each other.

Then there was a loud, sharp sound, the screeching of tires, and Walter and Paige looked up, jumping in surprise as brake lights lit up the road next to them. A car careened through a red light, then veered to the right, toward the sidewalk.

Walter jumped to the side, keeping himself between Paige and the oncoming car. Off balance, Paige stumbled to the side, into the bearded man. In his own panic, he shoved her out of the way, sending her hurtling into the bumper of the car, which had come up on the curb before screeching to a halt.

" _No_!" Walter shouted as he watched the events play out. It had all happened in less than two seconds, but it felt like slow motion. " _Paige_!"

Walter wanted to scream at him, he bearded man had vanished around the corner. He rushed to Paige's side. She was curled up, her hands clutching her stomach, her face contorted in pain. "Paige, Paige, Paige, Paige..." her name rushed from his lips as he fell down beside her, one hand pulling the hair out of her face, the other running over her swollen stomach. "Paige, talk to me."

She opened her mouth to respond, but what he thought was the start of a word quickly morphed into a moan. She was curled in the fetal position, facing him, and Walter rose up on his knees, peering around her, hoping desperately that he wouldn't see blood. He didn't. He looked up toward the car. An elderly gentleman was in the driver's seat, unmoving. _Heart attack_ , Walter guessed.

"Paige, honey, hold on, we're going to get help." He carefully rolled her onto her back and slipped an arm under her knees. "Can you sit up, so I can get you?"

Paige pushed up on her elbows, squeezing her eyes shut as Walter gathered her into his arms and struggled to his feet. He was sweating, his heart racing as he started to run back to their car. _No, no, no._

One of Paige's hands came up, resting against his neck as she drew in sharp breaths through her teeth, creating a hissing sound. Walter's legs felt like jelly, and he was glad that they'd driven and parked at the end of the street, rather than walking from the garage.

The baby. They might lose the baby. At thirty five weeks, Paige was just over a month from her due date and her stomach protruded enough that protection from outside trauma was extremely limited. Given how she had hit the still moving vehicle, and how much pain she was clearly in, Walter knew the chances of serious trauma to their baby were high.

He eased her into the back seat of the car and jumped in the driver's seat, driving through the lot's barrier arm and onto the street. _Three miles, we're only three miles from the nearest hospital. I can get us there in less than ten minutes._

He blared his horn. One car rolled down his window and a hand appeared, middle finger extended. "My wife is hurt!" Walter shouted, even though his own windows were rolled up.

"Walter..." Paige managed.

"Right here," he said. "Stay calm, breathe, we're getting help, everything's going to be fine." His hands were so sweaty they couldn't grip the steering wheel properly. Walter's head spun as he thought about the terrible irony that would be him getting them into a car wreck. He risked removing his hands from the wheel for a brief moment to wipe them on his pants, then clutched it so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Paige, I see the hospital sign up ahead," he said, wanting to fill the car with a sound other than her pained breathing. "We're almost there."

The light in front of him turned yellow, and he slammed his foot down on the pedal, rocketing through the intersection just as the light turned red. He pulled into the hospital parking lot and read the sign that said emergency was to the right. He went right at the fork.

"Help!" He shouted as he jumped out of the car and a nurse exited the building to greet him. "My wife's pregnant! She got hit by a car!"

The nurse opened the back door and leaned in, saying something to Paige, and suddenly, there were three other nurses, two pushing a gurney, all shouting things at each other. Paige was removed from the backseat and loaded onto it, and Walter ran up, grabbing her hand. "I love you," he said quickly, not recognizing his own voice.

Paige croaked it back, and then she was pushed rapidly away, the first nurse guiding Walter to the waiting room.

* * *

Walter O'Brien rarely cried. But as he sat in the waiting room, his head between his knees, he felt the unfamiliar stinging in his eyes.

The pregnancy had been so perfect, so far. The baby's measurements were always in top percentiles. Paige had had no complications, and the back pain she'd been experiencing since thirty weeks had been the only thing she had to complain about. The baby was active, responsive to their voices, and Walter had begun to allow himself to believe that nothing would go wrong.

And they were so close. The nursery was set up. Paige had set up the crib below equation that she'd set up on the wall in wooden letters and symbols – _IQ + EQ = Kara_ , the name they'd chosen in week twenty nine.

This late in a pregnancy, a loss wouldn't mean some cramping, some bleeding, some passing of clots. This late, Paige would actually have to _deliver_ their daughter, even if they wouldn't be bringing her home to the nursery.

If the accident had killed the baby and pushed Paige into labor, she would have to do it alone. It would be considered an emergency and Walter wouldn't be allowed back. If the doctors determined they couldn't save the baby and would induce labor, or would do a caesarian to deliver, Walter would demand to be at her side if they didn't offer it up front.

He looked at the clock. It had been over an hour. _Why isn't there news?_ Walter got up, agitated, and paced the floor for a few minutes before going to the desk. "Paige O'Brien," he said quickly. "You need to tell me what's happening with Paige O'Brien. Please."

No sooner had he spoke than a familiar face walked through the door leading to the back. Walter recognized the man as one of those who had been in the waiting room when they'd arrived, who'd immediately rushed into the back with Paige. "Doctor," he said desperately, walking up to him. "What's happening? Please tell me what's happening."

The doctor looked down, and Walter realized that he'd grabbed fistfuls of the man's coat as he approached, right up near his chest. He let go, embarrassed. _I nearly manhandled a doctor._ "I'm sorry."

"Your wife has some serious bruising. During pregnancy, your organs aren't always exactly where they used to be. If the car had been moving much faster on impact, the consequences would have been far more dire. She is going to be fine."

"And..." Walter struggled to draw breath. "And the baby? Oh God," he said when the doctor didn't respond right away.

"We did an emergency delivery, given the location of impact and the fact that we suspected internal bleeding in Mrs. O'Brien, which we did discover was present, but it wasn't as serious or complicated as it should have been."

 _What wasn't? Paige or Kara?_ Walter couldn't say anything. All he was capable of was breathing hard as he listened to the doctor.

"Your daughter has a broken collarbone, multiple fractures in her right arm, and she has visible bruising on over fifty percent of her body. But her lungs are healthy, and there doesn't appear to be any brain damage or any serious harm to her internal organs."

"She's...she's alive? She's here and she's alive."

The doctor nodded. "Yes."

Walter staggered backward in relief, almost knocking over a guy walking behind him. He barely noticed. His entire world currently consisted of knowing that somewhere behind those doors, his wife and daughter were going to be fine.

* * *

The doctor let him see Paige less than ten minutes later, and he rushed to her bedside. "Walter," she said as he approached. Her face was pale and she had a monitor attached to her finger and a tube of oxygen under her nose. But she was propped up in the bed and smiled at him as he grabbed her hand. "Kara's fine, Walter," she said. "They delivered her. I haven't seen her since then but she cried. She cried like a full term baby."

"Shhh," Walter said, seeing the tears in her eyes and blinking back his own as he bent to kiss her forehead.

"No," Paige said, her voice choked with emotion. "My lips, please, my lips."

He lowered his head, kissing her gently, capturing her upper lip between both of his. He slid his hand over her still prominent stomach to her other hand, linking their fingers as they had earlier in the day, when their biggest problem was her back ache. "I love you so much," he whispered. "I was so scared."

"Me too," she said, their lips still less than an inch apart. "But..." tears leaked from her eyes, "but it's going to be okay. The nurse said they were going to bring...oh!"

The sound of the door opening caused both of them to look toward it. A nurse entered, pushing a tiny cart. "Hello, you two," she said. "Someone is looking for you."

"Oh..." Walter stood up straight, glancing between Paige and the nurse as the latter bent, lifting up a tiny bundle wrapped in the typical blue, pink, and white blanket.

"Do you want her, Mrs. O'Brien," she asked.

"Please," Paige said, shifting her weight and eagerly taking the bundle into her arms. She instinctively brought the baby against her, holding her closely and securely. She pulled the blanket back, and Walter got his first look at their daughter.

The doctor had given an accurate description – she was badly bruised, nearly half of her skin appearing discolored, and she had a contraption on her arm. Her hair was the same color as Paige's, but for Walter, his daughter's eyes were like looking into a mirror. "Oh my God," he managed sinking down on the side of the bed next to Paige and leaning over, kissing her just in front of her ear. He slid an arm around her shoulders, the other one coming up to rest against one of hers underneath their daughter.

"Hi, Kara," Paige said quietly.

The baby had been squirming, seeming slightly distressed about the circumstances, but at the sound of Paige's voice, she stilled, eyes wide and blinking as she tried to focus on her mother's face. She wouldn't' be able to just yet – Walter knew newborns had terrible eyesight, but seeing tangible proof that Kara knew their voices and took comfort in them made his heart swell.

"You can barely see me, so I don't think you can see Daddy," Paige told the newborn, "but he's here too. He brought us here. He and I, we protect each other. And you, too."

She continued to talk, in that low, soothing voice that had worked wonders on Walter and Ralph countless times before Kara ever existed, but Walter didn't register her words – at least nothing that came after _Daddy._


End file.
